


Lost and Found Again

by Beginning_Returner



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (and sibling), Fun in the archives with NedCan, Gen, How Hetalians might get involved, in the history of Egyptology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beginning_Returner/pseuds/Beginning_Returner
Summary: Matthew and Johan expect good times when Isabella invites them over, but this time they get attic cleaning and a very unusual encounter with the past instead.NedCan week categories:Fantasy/Supernatural / History / Family and Friends / Art/Music





	Lost and Found Again

When Isabella called and asked Johan and Matthew to come over, they expected beer and good times as usual.

What they got was spring cleaning.

"Now I've already done lots of work up there, so there's a passageway to manoeuvre in now," she said, leading them to the attic ladder.

It took precisely two seconds after Matt's head had popped up over the threshold to realize what tended to happen when an Incarnation occupied the same townhouse in the same city for a long time: a simply epic quantity of clutter.

"This. Is. Ridiculous," he declared, surveying the insane clutter of almost two hundred years worth of outdated furniture and storage boxes.

"I've just been informed by my sister that one, there is also a basement, two, it is equally full," Johan called out from the bottom of the stairs.

"Great. Hey Isabella," he yelled back down. "I'm no expert, but some of the furniture up here is definitely museum-quality."

"Yes, I'm aware," came the answer. "Those pieces will be donated to the national museum once I've arranged for transportation, so be careful when you bring them down, will you?"

Matt sighed and came back down. "I know you're itching to make your brother clean out the basement, but given what you just said, I'm afraid we're going to have to work together on the attic if you want this done properly."

"I suspected as much, actually." Isabella turned to her brother. "Darling Joop, you can stop moping now, because it turns out your strapping boyfriend needs your help after all."

Matt's grin was irrepressible. "Joop?"

Johan sighed. "Isabella, would you please refrain from using embarrassing nicknames in front of my partner?"

"Absolutely not. Because you're still my little Jantje and I love you so. Now go on, go on, have a great time up there and start bringing things down."

Matt was halfway up the stairs behind Johan and enjoying the view of his backside when Isabella remembered an important addendum.

"And I don't want _ANY_ snogging up there, because this needs to get _done_!"

Both boys groaned and vanished reluctantly up the ladder.

 

* * *

 

Several very heavy pieces of furniture hauled down groaning stairs later, and even Matthieu was starting to feel the fatigue.

"Man," he said hacking and whacking away with a dust cloth, "just how much stuff is up here anyway?"

"Only my sister knows for sure, and she's not telling."

"Like she didn't forget most of this stuff was up here anyway."

"Oh I don't doubt that. Here, help me move these boxes downstairs, will you?" They had started from the front, and had now carved a wide swath reaching to the back of the attic. Matt groaningly obliged his boyfriend, then came back up after him into the attic. No enjoying the view this time, for Johan had immediately headed for the area where they'd left off. As he approached him from behind, Matt could see he had both hands resting on one of two wooden crates that had been underneath the boxes they'd just moved.

"What's up?"

"Vaatwerk in keramiek, steen"? Johan confusedly read the inscription in black paint on the lid of one of the crates.

Matt leaned over his shoulder to look. "Dishes made of ceramic I can understand her having, but made of stone? What the heck?"

"Don't look at me, I don't have any more idea than you."

Scrambling over to the attic entry, Johan quickly climbed down and went in search of his sister. In the distance, Matthieu heard him loudly say: "Isabella, what in the devil are stone dishes doing in your attic--"

"What? Stone dishes? I don't recall any-- wait. SHIT."

The house shook with her response, and Matt briefly and vaguely wondered if perhaps he'd done something wrong by getting "Darling Joop" interested in the boxes in the first place.

Loud footsteps resounded on the attic stairs and Isabella came running. He mutely pointed toward the two boxes, and she raced to examine them.

"Oh dear God, FUCK. After all these years--"

"What? What's wrong?" Johan made to hug her.

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Those crates are a monument to my irresponsibility."

"What?????"

She sighed deeply and gazed at the two ostensibly innocuous crates.

"Come down and have some tea, I'll explain. Actually, Johan will be doing the first part of the explaining, because I acquired these crates and their contents thanks to his help."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bepje dear."

"Did you just call me "Bepje dear" in front of your boyfriend?" Isabella stared daggers at her brother as Matthieu collapsed on the floor giggling.

"Well my dear sister, two can play at that game. Come on, I'll help you prepare tea and you can tell me all about these crates that bother you so."

"And what's inside them, for heaven's sake," added Matt, still gasping as he followed behind them.

 

* * *

 

He'd been strictly told by both his boyfriend and the sister of said boyfriend not to bother helping them prepare, so Matt could only catch snatches of the siblings' conversation from the kitchen as he sat at the dining table.

"--What auction? OH, THAT AUCTION. Wow, I thought you'd taken care of that stuff long ago."

"Well I had, but I hadn't...oh God the Professor must be rolling in his GRAVE--"

"Are you sure you don't just want to take a vacation--"

"--I'm finishing this job no matter what!"

When they eventually reemerged, Johan carrying the tea-tray, both seemed so perturbed Matt thought he'd be better off not asking what was the matter.

After a few moments of mildly strained silence, Isabella cleared her throat. "Hansje, why don't you explain the matter of the stone dishes to your boyfriend?"

"I _said_ , stop calling me names! And it's your dirty dishes, why don't you tell it."

"I wasn't _there_ for the initial purchase, but you were. Now tell your part of the story and be glad I don't hit you for calling those precious objects "dirty"."

"Fine." Johan turned to Matt. " _Do_ you want to know the story behind the strange crockery?"

"You're on thin ice, Jannes," shouted his sister behind him as Matthieu slowly nodded.

"Alright. So here's how it went for me..."

 

* * *

 

Late in the year 1904, Johan had been in Paris, taking care of some trading affairs for his country. All in all, a mundane business trip. Or rather, it _was_ , until the night of November the second when he strode into his hotel from the cold but brilliantly illuminated streets of the city.

Of course, he had no way of knowing what was to ensue when the man behind the desk called him over to hand him a private telegram.

Having retired to his room for the night, he opened the missive. It was a fairly long message, which read as follows:

J YOU MUST ATTEND GREAT AUCTION OF EGYPTIAN ANTIQUITIES AT HOTEL DROUOT TOMORROW STOP

BID FOR AT LEAST TWO ASSEMBLAGES OF MINOR OBJECTS STOP

SEND PRICE OF OBJECTS TO ME WILL WIRE FUNDS FOR PAYMENT STOP

YRS I

Johan wished he had Isabella before him now so he could frankly ask what had gotten into her head this time. But he didn't, and he knew from painful experience it was no good going against her once she'd set on something like this-- she'd refused to talk to him for decades at a time in the past when he'd refused to comply with some personal request.

The next day, when he arrived bright and early at the location she'd mentioned, Johan found the building was not at all what he expected. He knew the difference between a lodging-hotel and a Hôtel particulier, or rich family's town residence. But the Hôtel Drouot was none of the above. Instead of welcoming public or private guests, it was exclusively dedicated to selling rarities.

He eventually found the room for the auction after asking for directions several times in the capacious inner space. It was advertised by a sign on an easel that read in French: "Amélineau Auction: Egyptian Antiquities found at Abydos."

Entering, he found the space was already sparsely populated. He picked a seat near the middle but decided against sitting down, since he was likely to be doing that for some time once the sale began. His tallness naturally made him stand out in a room filled with Frenchmen, but he wasn't expecting one of the men in the crowd to detach himself and approach him.

He was a younger fellow of scholarly bearing, who sported a luxuriant beard and wore a bowtie.

"Ah, there you are. Miss Isabella informed me her brother would be acting on her behalf in this auction. Do I indeed have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Willemszoon?"

"Johan is fine," said Johan wishing fleetingly for this person to be a Flemish Belgian rather than a French one so he could speak something like his own language for a change. Then quickly reminded himself that he was, after all, in Paris, where griping about speaking French was out of the question anyway.

"Dr. Jean Capart. You've done a great service to your sister's nation today you know, young man."

"What's the young man for? If you are so well acquaintanced with my sister, surely you must know of our nature."

The docent only smiled. "Ah, but by Egypt's standards, you and her both are mere striplings."

Johan was about to contradict him but then he remembered the rumours. Rumours from Egypt that Wanis' aged mother, who was supposed to be many centuries dead, had just-- shown up at his house, one day not too long ago.

But that wasn't the matter of most importance here. Johan was on the verge of asking why his sister had dispatched him here in the first place when the scholar spoke up and answered that question before he asked.

"Your sister became taken with interest for the antique land of Egypt a few years ago, and visited the Museum in Brussels to further inform herself. I being, alas, the only staff member with knowledge of that country, took it upon myself to inform her as best I could, and provide her with access to the Museum's collection of volumes to further instruct herself. On hearing that the marvellous results of Amélineau's dig were to be auctioned, I informed Mademoiselle post-haste of the occurrence so she might use some of her not-inconsiderable funds to secure further antiquities from the sale which my Museum's budget will not allow for."

 

* * *

 

"So I bought the antiquities, and my dear sister has forgotten them in her attic ever since."

"Wrong. They were in fact exhibited prior to the last war, when I took charge of their safekeeping again, but then-- regrettably forgotten by me in the attic since the war's end."

"Really? Where'd you hide them in the war?" Matthew was intrigued. He'd dealt with all sorts of folks who squirrelled away art and people during the war.

"In the basement of one of the king's castles," said Isabella, looking down at her cup. "The king was persona non grata for the people and the Nazis alike, I thought no one would bother to look there."

"And hey, it turns out you were right! Who but my sister would think of such an ingenious idea?"

"You flatter me terribly, Johan."

"There's one thing that wonders me though..."

"Hm?" Isabella looked up at Matt.

"How'd you get interested in Egypt in the first place?"

"Oh." she grew rather pink.

"Yeah, how come? I never found that out either," said Johan.

"Well..."

 

* * *

 

In 1898, Isabella had been perusing her morning paper over coffee. In the international news columns. Then a name caught her eye, she nearly swallowed her coffee the wrong way, and she was forced to put both cup and paper down while she re-read the news item.

_New fragment of Sappho poem discovered._  
_Messrs. Grenfell & Hunt uncover treasure trove of antique papyri at ancient site of Oxyrhynchus, Egypt among them new fragment of Sappho poem._

It was no wonder that at such a headline, she was seized with a sudden desire to know more about Egypt.

So she went immediately to the museum, where Dr. Capart, the overenthusiastic collaborator responsible for the Egyptian collection, was happy to provide her with all the information she needed, and more, including, eventually, a borrowed copy of the volume with the translated Sappho fragment in question.

 

* * *

 

Matt leaned back in his chair. "So what you're saying is, you're gay for the Ancients."

"Aren't we all?" Isabella had turned quite pink.

"Can't say I am."

"Same here," continued Johan.

"Well you're both just a couple of beastly men, who wouldn't understand anyway." Isabella slammed down her cup resoundingly on the table, not an easy feat given it was covered with a thick cloth. "Back to work, you louts! I have to call the museum and let them know we'll be returning the objects tomorrow."

"Does it really have to be tomorrow?" groaned Johan, already guessing he'd have to help load and unload.

"I don't believe in wasting time."

 

* * *

 

"Hey bud, I just realized why my sister is in such a bad mood and going through compulsive cleaning," Johan muttered as they continued to transport items downstairs.

"Oh do tell," said Matt, putting down yet another coat stand.

"Round about this time of year, she gets together with Angelique. They go through the past year's worth of European film releases together, compare notes and collate suggestion lists for the festival committees in Brussels and Monaco."

A cloud of dust dispersed into the air as Johan put down the box he was carrying, and he sneezed violently, causing the crystals on a nearby art nouveau lamp to vibrate.

He sniffed, wiping under his nose. "'Course, they probably collate other things together too, which means my sister, predictably, is trying to distract herself because her girlfriend had to temporarily call off their regularly scheduled--"

"--Hanky panky."

"Exactly!" Johan straightened to his full height and pulled out a handkerchief. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

Matthew reflected. "Not really. I might do much the same if you called off one of our meetups."

"What, compulsively clean? Are you for real?"

"I have way too many houses cross-country, you know. And they all need to be cleaned occasionally."

"Man, I don't know you anymore." J turned to ascend the attic ladder again.

"Says mister scrub-the-floor-every-weekend who once enlisted me to clean between the grout of the old tile oven in his house," said Matt cheerily. "'Cmon, give your sister a break. Have some pity on her lonely horny self."

"Trust my brother to be smart enough to figure out why things are happening, but be too much of a smart-ass to offer comforting words," said Isabella, stepping into the room behind him. Johan promptly scrabbled up the ladder to avoid further conversation. She turned to Matt. "Thank you, Matthew. For being so considerate and trying to teach my brother some manners."

"Oh hey, no problem. You want a hug? Hugs are always comforting."

"I think I would like that very much, yes."

So Matt stood at the foot of the attic ladder and gave Isabella the most excellent of hugs, while Johan incredulously poked his head back down the attic aperture at the sight. Matt surreptitiously stuck out his tongue at him for being such a meanie.

Hugging over, she backed away so she could see both Matthew and Johan's head, still protruding from the ceiling.

"By the way, I've just gotten off the phone with the museum-- both of you are going to have to help relabel the artifacts when we get there. The "missing" objects that were in my attic were assigned new catalogue numbers when they took stock of the artifacts after the war, but the numbers were obviously never inscribed on the objects. No, Matt, giving me hugs doesn't get you out of that duty. Now finish up here, and I'll tell you boys when its time for dinner."

 

* * *

 

The evening meal was luxurious in spite of the great threat of work hanging over the boys' vacation.

Before they headed off to bed, Isabella corralled them one final time in the guest bathroom.

"Now I know you boys came here to party, but I need you both on deck when we go to the museum tomorrow, so don't even THINK of sneaking out for drinks."

Both men nodded sagely and waited until she'd disappeared round the corner of the door, then winked at each other.

Several hours later, all the house was silent-- except for a tiny tinkle in the living room.

Then a bonk, and a loud flopping noise.

"Johan, please just use your cellphone light."

"I'm trying to get it out gimme a break-- You get yours out first, if you're gonna complain like that."

The requisite equipment produced, the two carefully did their best to tread past boxes and ornate chairs alike, only to be confronted with a spectre in a nightdress at the entry to the dining room.

"I swear to God, Johan, if you broke the Tiffany lamp, you are paying for its restoration," said the eerily illuminated apparition of Isabella in a nightgown.

Matt opened his mouth.

"I don't want to hear your excuses either. Now BACK TO BED, BOTH OF YOU!" The pocket door slamming behind her rattled the lamp crystals more than Johan ever had.

"We gonna ignore that?"

"I _really_ don't want to know what she'd do to us if we did."

"Fair enough."

 

* * *

 

The next day dawned bright and early, and after carefully packing a rented van with the crates, they were off to the museum before the official opening time. A member of staff met them at a side door. Both Johan and Matthew were very glad to see she'd come with a baggage dolly. Matthew headed up the elevator first with the box he was carrying, then came back with the cart.

"You're not going to believe where they're putting us up," he said. "Might actually be worth breaking our backs for Isabella after all."

Johan had no idea into he meant, until Matthew guided him round a corner--

And into the museum's library cupola.

"Wow."

"Isn't that something?"

"...I hate to admit I've never been here."

"Well, neither have I."

Johan swatted at his boyfriend irascibly. "Of course _you_ haven't. I'm the one who has to feel guilty for never visiting despite living next fucking door."

"Is it your duty to Isabella to feel guilty _all_ the time in her presence?"

"You have no idea. You have ABSOLUTELY no idea."

"Johan, stop martyrizing yourself over the blockade of Antwerp again, and get over here already."

"I think you can stop your spiritual mortification now."

"Stop telling me what to do and listen to her, otherwise we're both done for."

As always, the initial set-up of the foam underlays for the artifacts, the lacquer and pens for labelling, and the unpacking of the objects, took just as much time as the labelling process itself.

Johan immediately declared that he would be brushing on the lacquer base surface on which the accession numbers would be written.

"Matthew didn't have to learn to write back in the pre-printing press days, so his handwriting is WAY cleaner than mine anyway. Stupid Gothic manuscripts."

And then, both he and his boyfriend settled into the boring routine of painting strips of lacquer and writing the numbers on the prepared surface.

Of course, they were prone to chatting while they waited for the lacquer to dry. If this went on for too long, or they became too loud, Isabella would generally call them to order in a hoarse whisper. She had taken an entire box of pottery for herself to label, and worked steadily.

The work was almost meditative in its rhythms sometimes, and before he knew it, Matthew had fallen into a trance.

Caught in a strangely fuzzy atmosphere, he delicately reached for an intact bowl made of patchy red and white marble--

\--Only to find himself crouching on the ground next to a dusty, half finished vessel, held in place on a hollowed stone with a soft piece of leather. The man working on it looked up at him. "Ah. There you are. You're the first to remark on this piece of mine in ages, you know."

He took up another square of leather and dusted the piece off superficially. Its surface was still rough, but the stone glowed with beautiful intensity under the sun.

"One of many thousands made for the Horus when he goes to the West," the man said quietly. He turned his gaze to Matthew again and smiled. "Your hair shines like the finest travertine."

Matt blushed uncontrollably. The man was very muscular, and his hands were gentle as they continued to work on the vessel.

"Matt, what the hell are you doing there?" Johan strode up to him out of the mists of the vision. He looked down. "Oh. So that's how they made those dishes."

"Indeed." The man slowly perambulated his eyes from one to the other. "Ah. You are together, I see. And what a wonderful couple you make- like twin vases, identical in beauty."

Johan immediately turned bright red.

"Why, were you vessels, I would fain pour from both of you to cleanse my body for a feast day."

Both Matthew and Johan were now the deep carmine of metal in the forge.

"Well, I--" they both said simultaneously.

"But sadly, we must part now," said the man, laying down his tools. "Take care of yourselves, and of the bowl, will you?"

And they were sitting under the bright lights of the library dome, just as they had been before.

Matthew looked at Johan. "Holy shit."

Johan looked at Matthew. "Maybe it's just me, but I don't feel inclined to call this stuff 'strange crockery' anymore."

"That makes two of us."

They both turned to Isabella at the head of the table, whose eyes seemed sunken in dreams.

"Isabella, did you have a vision just now too?"

"I most certainly did," said Johan's sister quietly.

"Oh boy, what did you see?"

"The woman who made this most rapturously formed vessel," she said gesturing to a large jar.

"I bet the woman was pretty rapturously formed too."

Isabella immediately turned pink. "How dare you--"

"Calm down, will you? We met a man who was much the same," said Matthew quickly.

There was a long silence as all three absorbed the gravity of the visions they'd just experienced.

"I think these objects just turned me gay for the Ancients," said Matthew finally.

"Same," added Johan.

Isabella grinned. "I'm so happy I managed to get you interested in antiquity. Think we can still finish these crates today?"

"Between the three of us? Sure."

"Then I'll be sure to tell you some more tales of ancient times over beer tonight, lads. Now let's get going!"

**Author's Note:**

> My blog [is right here](https://modoru-mono.tumblr.com/). I mostly post history and archaeology with a smattering of good Hetalia. Feel free to give me a yell on ask or messenger over there if you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> **Notes:**
> 
> From the age of 15 onwards, young Belgian Jean Capart had a dream: to study ancient Egypt. With time, this dream grew into another one: to establish the Egyptian museum collection in Brussels on a solid footing, and to promote the study of ancient Egypt in Belgium (Bruffaerts, 2013). The collection he helped build is now in the Cinquantenaire Museum, and can be visited to this day.
> 
> Émile Amélineau, a Frenchman who excavated the earliest royal tombs of Abydos (circa 3000 BC) as well as some even earlier surrounding tombs, found that his artefacts were not appealing to the rich men who invested in his excavations, and the Louvre also pronounced itself decidedly uninterested (Étienne 2007, 36). This was singularly stupid of them but typical for the era, though not exclusive to it; even now I've heard tourists say that prehistoric/early material from Egypt doesn't "look Egyptian". So Amelineau found himself forced to sell the collection at auction. Capart was also present at the [Hôtel Drouot](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Prolongation_de_la_rue_Drouot,_magasins_de_nouveaut%C3%A9s_du_Carrefour-Drouot.jpg) to purchase a part of the antiquities for the museum in Brussels (ibid). As you've seen in the fic, I'd like to think that in the APH-verse, he'd encourage Isabella to help him in his endeavours to enrich the museum!
> 
> Grenfell and Hunt did indeed uncover a Sappho fragment published in 1898 and now numbered Papyrus Oxyrhynchus 7 (see [here](https://archive.org/details/oxyrhynchuspapyr01gren), pp10--13). More fragments from the document numbered Papyrus Oxyrhynchus 1231 were also published in 1914 (see [here](https://archive.org/details/oxyrhynchuspapyr10gren), pp20--50). The Oxyhrynchus papyri are so numerous they are still being published today. (As always, a lack of funding means most of them are being preserved between old-boy annuals at Oxford at the moment.)
> 
> The inspiration for the stone bowl can be seen [here](http://www.carmentis.be/eMP/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=82425&viewType=detailView), and the inspiration for the clay vessel [here](http://www.carmentis.be/eMP/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=74941&viewType=detailView). Both objects are authentically from the area excavated by Amélineau, and quite likely purchased by Capart!
> 
> References employed, with links to their locations online:
> 
> [Bruffaerts, Jean-Michel. "Bruxelles, capitale de l’égyptologie. Le rêve de Jean Capart (1877-1947)", In: Bickel Susanne, Fischer-Elfert Hans-Werner, Loprieno Antonio and Richter Sebastian, _Ägyptologen und Ägyptologien zwischen Kaiserreich und Gründung der Beiden Deutschen Staaten. Reflexionen zur Geschichte und Episteme eines altertumswissenschaftlichen Fachs im 150. Jahr der Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde_ , (De Gruyter: Berlin 2013), 193--241](https://jeancapart.org/en/jean-capart/bibliography-relating-to-jean-capart/)
> 
> [Étienne, Marc. Emile Amélineau (1850-1915). Le savant incompris." _ArchéoNil_ 17 (2007), 27--38.](https://www.archeonil.fr/archeoNil17.html)


End file.
